The Name of Feelings
by frilencer
Summary: "She tries to ignore the throbbing in her head, caused by the memories of the past week that are trying to come back to her mind. Her friend's words keep reechoing in her thoughts, and she can distinctly recall her question in her mind: do you love him?"


**I love dealing with Tony's/Ziva's feelings for the other and in my writing I do that a lot. And this is what I do in this oneshot too.**

**I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much I enjoyed writing it :)**

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><p><strong><em>The Name of Feelings<em>**

She hears the _ding _of the elevator and watches the doors open in front of her eyes. She sighs and tries to wear the widest beam on her face, before she steps out and enters the bullpen. She heads to the squad room, sensing her heart beat fast in her chest as she approaches Tony. When she greets him with a smile and a plain "hello", she struggles to hide her uneasiness, and she must force herself to keep her eyes on him, because she feels the need of looking away.

He rises his head and she sees the surprise on his face. He breaks into a grin and welcomes her, cheerful.

"Welcome back, Agent David."

She cracks a smile and places her backpack on the ground, then she sits at her desk, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head, caused by the memories of the past week that are trying to come back to her mind. No matter how hard she tries to push them away, though, her friend's words keep reechoing in her thoughts, and she can distinctly recall her question in her mind.

_Do you love him?_

She remembers that her heart skipped a beat when she heard the question. She stared at her friend for a while, puzzled, her mouth half-opened, a chocked off denial on her lips. She was ready to tell her "no", because she had said "no" to so many people before, after they had implied the same thing, that she loved him, that they were together. She could say "no" without even thinking of what she was saying, because it had always felt like the right and natural thing to say in those occasions.

But in that moment, with the old lady's eyes fastened on her, she didn't say "no", because it didn't felt right. She had known her for years. The old woman was with her when her mother died, and had always been with her during her years in Mossad. They had drifted apart when Ziva had left for the NCIS and hadn't spoken much ever since, until a few months ago when she had found out that her friend had moved to Central America, closer to her than any other person belonging to her past.

She had flown to her for a week, expecting to spend seven days discussing the past, talking about experiences, exchanging memories. She hadn't expected that their talk would take a turn at a certain point, a turn that would lead them to talk about the present, something she wasn't prepared to do.

Yet, talking about her family at the NCIS had been simple: there was nothing to hide, because it was simply beautiful and true. She was honest and talked about how much she trusted Gibbs, of how good of a friend McGee was and, of course, about Tony, his humor, but also his incredible ability to switch from the "class clown" to a caring guy when it was needed. She didn't say everything about Tony, actually. Yes, she talked about what he was like, about how he usually acted, but as she spoke she sensed how much information she was withholding. She could have mentioned their fights, the moments they'd shared in the restroom, in the elevator, at the desk. She could have told her about their story, about the little steps that had taken them to the present situation, but for some reason she didn't.

Maybe it was this, the actual lack of deep talk about her relationships with Tony, that had made her friend suspicious. She must have noticed the blushes, the hints at something more, something she was, for some reason, hiding from her.

The question came totally unexpected.

After showing her friend the uneasiness that unfailingly crept over her when she heard her words, she tried to compose herself and broke up into laughter, hoping that it would hide the quiver of her body and the throbbing of her heart.

_Why should I? _she asked her, knowing that her voice sounded trembling as it left her mouth.

_He sounds nice and funny, _was her friend's simple answer.

Ziva smiled slightly, visibly embarrassed, and said the only thing that crossed her mind, which, after all, was also the truth. _He is._

After that moment, her friend dropped the subject. She offered her a tea and Ziva accepted it relieved, seizing with both hands the occasion of talking about something else. Yet, in the following days, every time Tony was mentioned, she saw a smirk rising on the old lady's lips. It felt like she could see beyond her faking, even after all these years; and Ziva couldn't help listening to what her friend's smirks and innuendoes were trying to tell her.

She was so used to ignore her feelings for him, to bury them inside, that now that she was actually free she had kept overlooking what she felt for him. Yet, a simple trigger had helped her to open her eyes, to be honest with herself; and in those days, far away from the place she called home, she had let herself admit, even though only for a short lapse of time, that she did, after all, love him.

Over the years, he had left a permanent mark on her, he had changed her, somehow, and turned himself in a part of her that she cherished and took care of every day, as the most precious thing. Lying in the makeshift bed that her friend had prepared for her, Ziva thought about Tony a lot, allowed herself to think about her feelings for him for the first time in months – or maybe in years. She let herself give a name to those feelings, she let herself think about all what they had been through, without brushing aside the reasons that hid behind every single gesture and action. At the end of the week, she didn't feel anything different about him than she had felt before leaving, but she had figured out what kind of feelings those were. It felt so simple, there, in Central America.

But as she stepped into the elevator that morning, her first day at work after coming back, the weight of the awareness fell upon her. Her heart beat fast as she waited for the elevator to reach her floor, because she knew, deep inside, that it would not be as easy now that he was _there _with her as it had been far away from him. She had to face him, now, and, at the same time, face her own feelings for him, feelings that she now sensed the impulsion to hide, as she had always done before. It took her a lot of effort to take the step that brought her into the bullpen, back into reality.

"So, how did it go?"

His question awakens her from her thoughts, and she shakes her head as his face slowly reappears in front of her. She gives a start as she notices that he is now sitting on her desk and that she didn't even see him approaching. Tony stares at her with a probing look, probably wondering whether he should investigate further about what was going on in her mind, but then he just smiles at her – and Ziva mentally thanks him for that.

"It was… nice," she replies, smiling slightly, quickly moving her gaze from him, afraid that her eyes will reveal too much. Though, she feels his unflinching look on her and she knows she must add something. "It was nice to see her after all this time." She raises her head and faces him, returning his stare. His eyes make her heart beat fast and knowing how to call what she is feeling doesn't really help her right now. Quite the opposite, it makes it even harder for her.

She curses herself for having let herself think about him the past week. Did she really think she could go back to normal life after the long talk she had with herself about feelings? She feels stupid now, for what she did, and, yes, for being honest with herself, for having dropped the farce after all that time. What was the reason to do that? Yes, she felt lighter when she admitted her feelings, she felt good. But why didn't she think about the consequences, why didn't she think about how hard it would be for her to stare at him again? Why couldn't she just make her mind shush, for once?

She quivers, because he is once again entering her personal space, getting too close, and it feels so good to have him so near, but also so hard.

"Good for you," he says, a playful smile on his lips. He is still staring at her with an intense look and for a moment she feels like he is able to melt her uneasiness with that simple look.

After a while he smiles and says, his voice low, "I'm glad you're back, though." He giggles and in that moment it's so easy for her to love him and to admit it, it's so easy to look at him and accept the fact that she wants him to be so close. He warms her up, he makes her feel safe, and it doesn't seem wrong to give those feelings a name, not now, not at all.

When he slips away and breaks their closeness, she misses his presence. She watches him go back to his desk, sensing the frenzied beating of her heart slow down, and she breathes in deeply, tries to calm herself down, because right now her head is in a mess, her whole body is in a mess and she can't control it.

Tony addresses her a last smirk, then he starts to pore over some paper, and this is the cue for her to understand that another day at work is starting. She lowers her head and she realizes that she can't pretend that this will be like any other day for her. She doubts her days will ever be as they were just a week ago, actually. Everything has changed, and, if she has to be honest, she doesn't mind it at all.


End file.
